Daksh was orphan, surviving only for his younger brother. No chance he believed in fairytales, especially the kind where a billionaire's daughter could ever understand a man like him. Orphaned young, with only his younger brother to care for, Daksh...
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“You accept the deal now, or we dig more into you.” The angry, sharp voice echoes through the corridor. Making Daksh turn on his heels, spotting Sanjiv standing just a short distance away and his eyes boil like blood.
A wave of worry hits in Daksh’s heart, worrying for Ahana. What is Sanjiv planning? What will he do to her?
Daksh shrugs his shoulder, making Vikram’s hands slide off as annoyance flickers across his face. He doesn’t like being dismissed.
Daksh doesn’t care. Not when his heartbeat thunders against his ribs like a war drum.
“What would you do if I get her here?” Daksh asks, uncertain. With bleeding heart as his gaze fixed on Sanjiv. His hands clutch on the paper in his hand in nervousness.
Sanjiv smirks cold and evil. “You’re nobody to question that. Just do your work,” he snaps, lacing his voice with insult.
Daksh refuses to let it slide, when it’s life matters. He steps forward, now towering over him. “Nobody? In that case, you wouldn’t need me to spy on the country’s richest man’s daughter,” Daksh says, his voice sharp.
Vikram steps in, speaking to Sanjiv, “Trust me, he’s worth waiting for.”
Then Vikram turns back to him. “I’ll send your men back to you,” he says with unsettling calm.
“I haven’t said yes,” Daksh replies, calm and controlled, but deep down he wants to escape, run away.
“I want time,” he says finally, words clipped, final.
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He turns sharply and storms down the staircase. Each step is a battle to stay composed. the ache in his chest is no longer anger.
It’s grief.
He’s missing his own wedding.
just as he rounds the corner — he crashes into someone. Eyes shut in pure irritation when he sees who it is.
“Still his favourite, huh?” Raghav exclaims, a half-smile curling on his lips like a taunt.
Daksh ignores him, pushing forward through the neon lights, through the diners and the clinking of cutlery. “Where’s Shah?” he asks, already sensing Raghav trailing behind. As always.
“Dubai. We don’t talk anymore,” Raghav replies. He’s two years younger and still acting like a toddler trailing after him, old habit.
“No wonder you’re like this.” Shah, his father, is the only one of Lohra’s brothers-in-law who stays out of the business but Raghav? Raghav is stubborn. “And stop following me!” Daksh snaps.
Confusion flickers in Raghav’s eyes. “Oh, am I?” He glances around, scans the bar, and grabs a random glass. “I’m here for a drink,” he says casually.
